Debra Scotburn never thought of herself as a cougar, until she fell in lust at first sight with a much younger man.

Daniel Van Meister, a trouble-shooter for the Simply Five Star Hotel chain doesn't do commitment, until the older, curvy, vivacious brunette robs him off his ability to control a certain body part.

Unable to keep their hands off each other, they embark on a passion-filled holiday fling. Surely that is all it can ever be? Daniel's work takes him all around the world at a moment's notice, and Debra is on the last leg of her middle-aged-crisis induced gap year.

When misunderstandings tear them apart, can they both admit their love and find the trust needed to make this more than just a fling?

She stared up at him and grinned. The moon appeared from behind a cloud and his pulse jumped like a flea in a circus. It was her. His mystery lady.

“So I am, or should that be am not?” She swirled her arms and the moonlight caught the ripples and sent tiny moonbeams dancing over the surface of the pool. “Which

means unless you’re the night watchman…?” Her voice trailed off mid sentence, on a querying note.

Braam shook his head.

“Then neither should you. So why don’t you join me? Or is jogging the only exercise you do?” She tilted her head to one side and swam in lazy circles around the island in the centre of the pool.

Does she know there’s innuendo in that statement?

“Come on, live dangerously. You know you shouldn’t swim alone at night.” She laughed.

“So in actual fact, we’ll be helping each other.”

Why not? Braam pushed the sides of his trousers apart and kicked them off his legs with scant care to creases. The suit needed to go to the cleaners anyway.

An over anxious sous chef had made sure of that when Braam had checked the buffet earlier.

He left his boxers on—after all there was such a thing as over-familiarity—and dived in.

The water closed over his head and he pushed to the surface. It was like swimming in a Jacuzzi without the bubbles. The warmth surrounded him as he swam towards the woman leaning against the edge of the pool with her arms stretched out to hold her in place.

“So, hello, Ms Intruder. We meet again.” He trod water and moved his arms and hands to stay in front of her and not move into her personal space. As much as he’d have liked to crowd her, demand who she was and why she was there, he knew better.

“It seems we do. Nothing more mysterious than the ways of the world, eh?” She chuckled and splashed water with her legs. “Is this where I say fancy meeting you here? Or we must quit meeting like this, people will talk?”

There was no doubt about that, especially if the night manager turned the security cameras on. Braam angled his body then swam around the island so that if that did happen, his face wouldn’t be seen. There was one spot where the cameras didn’t reach, but was visible to the lifeguards when they were on duty. As he hoped, the lady swam after him, until they reached what he termed the safe area.

“Are we playing tag?” Her voice was husky and it lifted his libido and his cock by several notches. In fact, his cock was pressing against his boxers and even the water couldn’t come to his aid so he didn't get harder by the minute. This woman intrigued him.

“I can think of better things to play.”

Her eyes widened and the laugh she gave went straight to his dick and hinted at all things erotic.

“Such as? Ludo? Scrabble, or, I know, Hotel?” She ran her tongue around her lips in an unconscious invitation to plunder and Braam was hard pressed not to groan.

“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine…” Braam paused. “Hotel, I mean, what else?”

She giggled. It wasn’t the silly sound a young girl would make, but a deep, sexy noise. “How about Kiss Chase?”

I'm growing old disgracefully and loving it. Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.

Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so

to speak. I write in my study, which overlooks the

garden and the lane. I'm often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I'm not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs

without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.

Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.